Relationships, Season One
by Marish89
Summary: This story follows all the characters, particularly Elliot and Olivia, throughout the first year at SVU. It's about their relationships with each other. Each chapter is an episode, mostly from Olivia's POV. There will be a few sequels coming in the future
1. Meeting

**Meeting**

I walked into the squad room. I was so nervous, starting my first job as a Detective. I'd been a Beat Cop for three years, before I could get the promotion. As I stopped outside the doors of the Special Victims Unit, I wondered if I had made the right choice. I had come here to make a difference, to put paedophiles, rapists and abusers in jail. To give justice to the victims in the only way I ever could. I briefly wondered if I could be sympathetic enough with the victims and hard enough with the perpetrators. I had no idea that this place would be my home for the next decade. Didn't know that my new partner would be my best friend. I didn't know that this unit was like a family, and I didn't know that they all supported each other. I didn't know that we had psych evaluations regularly. The only thing I knew what that this was going to be different from any other job that I had ever had, and that I would ever have.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door to the squad room, and stopped to take a good look around. A bald man stepped forward and addressed me.

"Excuse me, are you looking for someone?" he asked gently. I looked at him strangely; he most likely thought that I was there to report a rape.

"I'm Olivia Benson. I'm looking for Captain Cragen," I said, looking around once more.

"Oh," he said, extending his hand, "I'm Don Cragen. It's a pleasure to meet you, follow me." He walked off in the direction I now knew to be his office, not looking back to see if I was keeping up.

As soon as the door closed, the interrogation of my motives, past and abilities began with vigour.

"Captain," I interrupted, after the first few questions had been fired off, "I'm Olivia Benson. My mother was a rape victim, and my father a rapist. Because of this, I have a very strained relationship with my mother," he looked at me, as though awaiting more information and I continued, "She accused me of being the source of her problems, and being a continual reminder of the worst day of her life. She's an alcoholic, and she is abusive."

Don didn't say anything after my revelation, and I didn't elaborate. Finally, he asked, "How do you know that you can maintain a professional relationship with your past?"

"I don't," I said simply," All I can do is my best, and then try to do more. I know the relationship that you have to have with an abuse or rape victim in order to get them to trust you. I only hope that, among my other skills, will move towards you accepting me in your squad."

"What do you mean, you know?"

"When I was seventeen, I was raped by my boyfriend, and three weeks after that molested by my Mother's drunken partner. I think that gives me cause to say that I understand and know what trauma these people encounter, and I think it gives me a better understanding on how to make sure that they understand that it is important to move on with your life."

"How do you know that you won't be too violent with the perps after what you have been through?"

"Look, Captain, I know that I can do this, and I want to do this. I want to put these predators in jail and I have every intention of doing so. Regardless of whether or not I stay here, I WILL work in SVU and I WILL help these people."

Don looked impressed by what I had just said, and how I seemed to have controlled the interview to some extent. I don't think he was used to being treated in such a manner, although his respect for me increased.

"First," he began, looking at me intently, "Most people under my command call me Don. Second, your partner is interviewing a victim and I shall introduce you when he arrives back. Third, your partner will need to know about your past so that he can keep an eye on you, though you do not have to inform the rest of the squad."

I nodded, "What about his past?"

"That is Elliot's business."

"Captain, that is a double standard. I am female and therefore need a male to keep an eye on me. I need to know about my partner, so I can do the same."

I glared strongly at him, and he could see that I wasn't going to let the matter rest.

"He was emotionally and psychically abused by his father."

"His mother?"

"She died at the hands of his father, when he was twelve."

I nodded, "Thank you," I said quietly.

Don didn't reply for a few minutes and when he finally said something, it had nothing to do with anyone's past, "Your partner's back."

I turned to look through the blinds at the person who I had not seen before. Granted, I couldn't see much, as his back was turned toward me, as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Elliot," Don called, poking his head out of his office, "Your new partner's here."

As Elliot turned around, I had difficulty suppressing a gasp. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. His eyes were a dark blue, yet they shimmered with light, his body fit and trim from work-outs and regretfully I noticed a ring on his left hand. Of course, I realised, someone as good looking as him would be married, probably to some sort of trophy wife.

He entered the office, and looked me over, "Elliot Stabler," he introduced, extending his hand, which I noticed was shaking slightly.

With a soft smile, I replied, "Olivia Benson." I grasped his warm hand, and was shocked at my body's reaction to it. Quickly, I masked the emotion, but I had the distinct feeling that Elliot had somehow detected it.

"Now that you are introduced, Elliot, what did the victim say?"

"Nothing," he sighed heavily, 'All he did was shudder whenever I spoke."

"I could try," I offered, "I've always been good with children."

"I don't think so," Elliot responded, his eyes turned darker which reflected his outrage, "You need to learn the ropes first, before you interview anyone."

Before I could respond to this offensive remark, the Captain interrupted us.

"I think you should let Olivia interview him," seeing Elliot about to protest, he added quickly, "You might want to learn something more about your partner, before you dismiss her."

"Fine," he turned to me, "Benson, let's go." He threw my coat to me and shrugged his on. Surprised, I caught it, and hurried after him.

"You driving?" I asked, as we walked to the car.

"Nope, I'll drive back from the hospital."

I nodded, and we bucked into the car. The ride to the hospital was filled with silence, that was unexpectedly comfortable. Although, I knew about his past, he knew nothing of mine, and I wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. For some unknown reason, however, every instinct was telling me that he should know, and that he would never hurt me. I didn't know much about him, but I knew that if he was near me, I would be safe.

As we arrived at the hospital, I motioned for Elliot to stay outside the room, while I talked to the young boy.

"Hi," I said softly, "My name's Olivia. What's yours?"

He didn't reply, so I asked another question, "How old are you?"

He quickly held up six fingers, before the hands went back under the covers.

"You sure you don't want to tell me your name?" I asked, with a smile. To my intense surprise, he smiled and said, "Mike."

"Mike, can you tell me what happened?"

"Don't want to."

"Mike," I prodded gently, though I could almost feel Elliot glaring through the curtain, "Who hurt you?"

"H-he did."

"Who did, honey?" I asked.

"My dad. He said that I was a bad boy, and I needed to be punished."

"What did you do?" I asked, careful to keep any accusation out of my voice.

"I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't," he said terrified.

"Honey," I reassured softly, "It wasn't your fault. It's never your fault."

"I dropped the bottle," he said shakily, "It had the yellow stuff in it. I swear I didn't mean to."

"It's okay. What did he do to you?"

"He," Mike paused, as if trying to gain confidence, "He hit me with the bottle, and then said I shouldn't have cried because big boys don't cry. Then he picked up a bat, and hit me. I don't remember anything after that," he looked down into his lap, obviously ashamed.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," I said gently, but firm, "What he did was wrong, and there is nothing wrong with crying."

He nodded, and whispered a small 'Thanks' before I stepped outside.

As I met Elliot outside the room, he immediately asked, "How'd you do that?"

I shrugged, "Kids trust me."

He looked closely at me, almost as if he could read my mind, and see the part of me that I tried so hard to hide.

"What happened?" he asked.

"What happened?" I repeated, trying to play dumb.

"What happened to you," he clarified, before continuing, "Everyone has their own reason for joining SVU, so what's yours?"

"The Captain said you would have to know. I'd rather he told you."

Elliot nodded, though he didn't look pleased that I didn't trust him. After what I'd been through in my life, I didn't trust many people, and those I did, it took a while for me to do so. As we drove back to the station, the conversation was a little stilted, but not overly so. It seemed that he had taken my lack of trust in him personally.

Hoping to clarify before we got back to the station, I said, "Look, I don't trust people. It's not that it's you or anything, I just don't do trust."

He nodded, and the conversation became a little more comfortable.

"What've we got?" Don asked as soon as we arrived.

"Mike was abused by his father, Damian Ross," Elliot said as he took of his coat and grabbed mine to hang up.

"He opened up to Olivia?"

I nodded, and he looked at me with a respect I didn't deserve, "Yes, sir. He said that his father beat him and he lost consciousness."

"Pick up the Father."

We both nodded, and left. After about an hour of badgering this man, he confessed that his son had dropped a bottle of Brandy on the floor and he had flown into a rage and beaten his son. As we finished our paperwork on my first case, Elliot offered me dinner, at his place in Queens. Curious, about his family and wanted to know more I agreed. However, before we could leave, Don called Elliot into his office. Knowing that I was the topic of conversation between the two men, made me feel very uncomfortable, so I continued to tidy and try to take my mind of what was going on inside the office.

When Elliot came out, he looked at me with eyes full of pity. Quickly I said, "I don't want your pity, so if you can't look at me as you did before, then piss off."

"Okay," he said, a little startled by my outburst, "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. Are you still coming for dinner?"

I blinked a few times, confused by the subject change, "Yes," I said after a few seconds. On the way to his place, I learnt that he married his high school sweetheart, and had four kids. Maureen, the oldest, was fourteen, Kathleen was eleven, and Lizzie and Dickie, a set of twins, were seven.

As curious as I was about his family, I felt a certain amount of jealousy. This man was good, and he had a life to show for it. He had a family, and people who loved and depended on him. I had no-one, but I quickly threw the thought from my mind as we pulled up.

A blonde woman stepped out the doorway as we pulled up. I knew automatically that this was Elliot's wife. She was the exact sort that he should have, a trophy wife. As he walked up to her, with me following behind, not quite sure what to do, four kids quickly piled around the woman and raced to their father, before turning curiously to me.

"Hi, I'm Olivia. I work with your father," I introduced. Kathy looked at me with a looked of intense distaste on her face, but her children were a different matter. Each of them eagerly walked up to me and hugged me tightly. I didn't know anything about this woman, but she seemed furious that her children had accepted me when I hadn't.

"Kath," Elliot said, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, "Liv's staying for diner, alright?"

Although it was clear that it wasn't, Kathy didn't voice her objection. Dickie grabbed my hand and enthusiastically dragged me into the house, and into a room that he shared with his twin.

"Come look at my cars," he said excitedly, while his twin grabbed my other hand and said equally excited, "Look at my dolls, Livvy."

Looking at the two seven year olds, I laughed, "How about I sit here, and play with both of you?" They both nodded and joined me on the floor with their toys. Kathleen joined us about ten minutes later, with a magazine puzzle that she required help with. Though the magazine was soon forgotten and the four of us were engaged in some games. Maureen, I suspected, was either helping her parents with dinner or doing homework. A sudden voice floated up the stairs, calling the children to dinner. The three kids hurried down the stairs, and I looked around at the mess left in the room.

As quickly as I could, I put the toys away in their appropriate places, having learnt that parents rarely like messes. As I was about to leave the room, Elliot looked at me, amusement evident in his face.

"What?" I asked, defensive, "I just packed up some stuff."

"You're strange," he laughed, "come down to dinner."

Throughout the meal, I learnt many things about the children and Kathy. Though Kathy remained relatively quiet throughout the meal and did not volunteer any information, a fact that did not go unnoticed by either Elliot or me. After dinner, I offered to help clean up, which Kathy reluctantly accepted, after a not-so-subtle indication from Elliot. We were washing the dishes in complete deafening silence, when she suddenly asked, "Do you like my husband?" There was a note of jealous possession in her voice.

Startled, I replied, "Of course I like him, Kathy, he's a nice man. But I don't like him as more than a friend."

"Oh," she replied, though she clearly did not trust the answer.

I left shortly after, promising the twins who had taken an extreme liking to me that if it was okay with their parents I'd take them to the mall one weekend. 

I was interviewing a victim, having no idea that this would be the day my marriage started to break. I had no idea that I would have a partner who had been through so much, but was so compassionate; I had no idea that she would be the one to test my marriage vows and I had no idea that my kids would love her like a mother. Interviewing a victim was nothing new to me, that's part of what I've been doing for the past few years. This little boy though, he wouldn't open up to me, he just say in hi bed, and shuddered every time he heard my voice. Resigned to the fact that I would not be getting a statement out of him, I headed back to the station.

I walked in, and just as I had taken my coat off, a call from Cragen's office announced he needed my presence.

When I first saw my new partner, I could barely contain my gasp. She was absolutely gorgeous. She had large brown eyes that were filled with a hidden emotion, and her body had curves that were to die for. She was obviously toned, and my eyes immediately flickered to her left hand, which was surprisingly bare. I would have thought that such a fine creature was married to a tall handsome guy. I quickly regained my thoughts, and extended my hand for her to shake, and I noticed that it was shaking slightly.

She smiled gently, at me and I felt a strange sensation come over me, "Olivia Benson," she said, and I noticed her voice was a seductive mix. When she shook my hand, I noticed that she had some sort of reaction, which she quickly masked. I sensed that she did this as habit, and that she would not trust easily.

"Now that you are introduced, Elliot, what did the victim say?"

"Nothing," I sighed, remembering the boy's reaction to me, "All he did was shudder when I spoke to him."

"I could try," my new partner offered, "I've always been good with children."

For some reason, this comment caused me to be outraged. How could she think that she would be better than me, when she didn't know anything about being an SVU Detective?

"I don't think so," and her eyes flashed at me, "You need to learn the ropes first, before you interview anyone."

She opened her mouth to respond, but Don cut in, "I think that you should let Olivia interview him," I opened my mouth to protest, "You might want to learn something more about your partner, before you dismiss her."

"Fine," I stated, and turned to Olivia, "Benson, let's go." I threw her coat to her, and shrugged mine on. I was quite surprised when she caught it, without fumbling.

"You driving?" she asked, as we walked out to the car.

"Nope, I'll drive back from the hospital."

She nodded, and we buckled into the car. The ride to the hospital was filled with silence, that was surprisingly comfortable. I knew nothing about her, but for some strange reason had the distinct idea, that she knew all about my past. While I was sitting with her, I felt that I was safe, and that the troubles of my past, and the predicaments or trials that would come with the job would all seem to be something meaningless, when she was there.

As we arrived at the hospital, she motioned for me to remain out of the room. For some reason, this didn't bother me. As I heard the conversation on the other side of the curtain, I felt a deep respect for my partner.

When she arrived on the other side of the curtain, I asked, "How'd you do that?"

She shrugged and looked genuinely confused, "Kids trust me."

I looked closely at her, trying to figure out her secret. It was almost as though she had a million things under the surface and would be a never ending enigma.

"What happened?" I asked.

"What happened?" she parroted, trying to play dumb.

"What happened to you? Everyone has their own reason for joining SVU, so what's yours?"

She looked slightly apprehensive, and said quickly, "The Captain said that you would have to know. I'd rather he told you."

I nodded, but was slightly hurt by the fact that she didn't seem to trust me. It was strange, I found myself thinking, that I was hurt by the lack of trust that this woman had shown in me, regardless of that I had only known her for about an hour. I think she sensed that I was hurt to some degree and spoke in order to clarify the issue.

"Look, I don't trust people," she said, "It's not that it's you or anything, I just don't do trust."

I nodded and the conversation became more comfortable.

"What've we got?" Don asked, as soon as we arrived.

"Mike was abused by his father, Damian Ross," I said as I took off my coat and grabbed Olivia's.

As we talked about the case, my respect for my new partner increased. Therefore, as we finished up the paperwork on her first case here, I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with my family. Just as she agreed, Don called me into his office, and judging by the look on my partner's face, it was about her motivations for joining the unit.

As Don told me about her past, I felt a deep sympathy arise, and a further respect and admiration. She was absolutely amazing. When I came out, she must have seen something different in my expression toward her, as she quickly said, "I don't want your pity, so if you can't look at me as you did before, then piss off."

I was a little startled by her outburst, and said, "Okay. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. Are you still coming for dinner?"

She blinked, almost confused and replied in the affirmative. As I drove her to Queens, I told her about my family, and she seemed genuinely interested and partially saddened. I once again, felt a deep sympathy for her. While Kathy and my marriage was no bed of roses, I still had someone that loved me, and who I loved. I wasn't alone except for an abusive mother.

When we pulled up, my wife stepped out the door, closely followed by my children. As my partner followed me and introduced herself. The kids eagerly walked up to her and embraced her warmly. I felt my wife stiffen beside me and knew that she didn't approve of Olivia.

"Kath, Liv's staying for dinner, alright?" I asked, though from my tone it was obvious that she couldn't argue.

When my kids grabbed her arms and dragged her into the house, I laughed. They seemed to have formed a bond after only about two minutes, which I felt quite happy about but also a little scared. Kathleen gave us another hug, and then followed Dickie, Lizzie and Liv up into the house. Maureen, however, stay with us and asked Kathy a question.

"Why don't you like her?"

"I just don't."

"Why not?" I asked, she had liked my previous partner.

"I just think that she's had a horrible life, and she's just pretending to be nice but she has an ulterior motive." Although I believed her, I felt that there was more to her dislike, and I wished I knew what it was.

Thirty minutes later, Kathy called the kids down to dinner, and when the three trooped down, without Liv, I went up to investigate. I saw Olivia cleaning up the room, and I stood back and watched in amusement.

"What?" she said when she spotted me, "I just packed up some stuff."

"You're strange," I responded, laughing, "come down to dinner."

Throughout the meal, I'm sure Olivia learnt many things, and some that I would rather remain private, but she seemed to be a part of the family, more than my wife. Kathy remained quiet and when Olivia offered to help her clear, after a not-so-subtle hint by me, which I'm sure Olivia noticed, Kathy accepted. Later, the kids went to their respective rooms to do homework, and I eavesdropped on the conversation between my wife and my partner.

My wife asked my partner if she liked me, and Olivia had responded affirmatively, and I thought that her response would have sated my wife, but obviously she didn't trust that the answer was truthful.

Olivia left shortly after, promising to take the twins out for a weekend if it was alright with both Kathy and I. After she left, and the children were in bed, Kathy and I had one of the many arguments that were to come about Olivia.


	2. Payback

**Payback**

Cragen pulled us into her office, after Carmichael announced that she would take a plea on the homicide. Obviously, he thought that the guilty woman, Martha Stevens, deserved something a little closer to 12 ½ to 25 years not one year in a psych ward. Both Elliot and I had seen that this case had affected our judgement, mine most of all. I couldn't stay objective, how could anyone expect me to? This man was just like my father, the violent, sadistic, power-hungry man that had forced himself on my mother. Even though I didn't know much about him, I hated him. I hated everything he stood for, and both Elliot and Don were able to see this.

As Don called our objectivity into question, I spoke, "I think we did the only thing that's going to allow me to sleep tonight."

Elliot looked at me, confused as to why I was saying something that I shouldn't have, and we both knew it was too late for me to take it back.

"You just used your get-out-of-jail-free card on this one, Olivia. There's only one in the pack," Don spoke with the tiniest bit of resentment in his voice. It was as though he had expected this, but hoped against it. I vowed not to take the next case or any after this personally again. It was stupid, because little did I know, that every case that walked in the door of Special Victims would be personal.

As we walked over to our desks, I looked at Elliot, who had been very quiet. From what I had gathered about him in a month, this was very unlike him.

"She said something to you, didn't she?" I questioned, as we sat down, and he remained silent.

"I just want to be with my family," he whispered softly, as he looked straight at me before glancing at the photo on his desk. I looked down at my desk, realising once more, and feeling all the more ashamed that I had no family. The phone ringing beside me jolted me out of my thoughts, and I picked it up, answering, "Special Victims Unit?"

Another case, another rape, another victim, another person who had been violated and partially destroyed. Luckily for Elliot and I, this would not be our case, as Brian and Munch were catching and I thanked every star for not having to deal with another victim today. I made a silent vow once more, to be stronger. I knew the cases would still affect me, but there would NOT break me. They would not cause me to doubt that there was justice in the world. Justice was a reason for living, knowing that if neither my mother nor I could ever get any, some people in the world would know some. And that, was just another reason why I vowed that I would stay here, and I would help these people.

Elliot's voice cut through my train of thought, offering me a break from the unrelenting strain of my own inner voice.

"Wanna grab a drink?" he asked, passing my coat to me. I nodded silently, taking my coat from him and heading out to the car. We drove out to Meloni's, and ordered two beers. We both sat in silence, wanting to say something but neither wanting to start the conversation we knew was inevitable. Eventually, when I could stand the silence no longer, I started.

"Why'd he affect you so much?" I asked, knowing that this wasn't the question I intended to ask, but figured that we could work our way to it eventually.

"Why'd it you?" he retorted rhetorically, though he made it clear that he had every intention of answering the question, "My family is just so important to me, that I could never image them being eliminated in such a fashion. It's just," he took a swallow of his beer, "I find it hard to believe that that woman could think that her husband was a good man. She knew everything that he had done and it didn't bother her in the least and she supported him," he paused and took another swallow, "How much did it affect you?"

"I think you can answer that one for yourself," I said looking down at my half-empty bottle of beer.

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, before asking, "How do you deal with it? I mean I know it doesn't change who you are to other people but you have to think differently about yourself. I don't understand how with all that has happened to you, and all you've been through how you can care so much, that you are so compassionate. I'd be bitter or angry at everything."

"You're wrong, you know," I began, now looking in the distance. I didn't think that I could say this, with him looking at me through his kind and caring eyes, "People look at me differently because of how I was conceived. People think that I'm evil, maybe part-devil, that I'm violent. I might be part evil, part drunk, part devil and part violent, but I'm also me. And I AM my own person, and no one, no matter who they are can make me think different," I paused, knowing the last part of what I had said was a lie.

"And I'm really not like that. I resent people for having a perfect life, but we learn from our past, so I learn to forgive. I had to, it was the only way I could survive with my mother. The only thing I can't stand is that people assume that because I'm white and I live in Upper Manhattan, that nothing horrid has ever happened. That I've lived a perfect life, no one can ever understand how much that annoys me. They just assume."

For a while we went on to discuss various other issues, some personal, some not so, the things that separated our lives, that made us different and similar. The understanding we were building would be deep, it would make us best friends, and it would be our best and worst trait. I didn't really understand our relationship, it was so strange, so different and yet so normal. It was one of the many things in the world that couldn't be explained, and I had a feeling that the reason for ours was our understanding. I had no idea that this would do to us, that our understanding would break us, tear a family apart, and destroy my heart and continually be the cause that broke me. Though somehow I knew that this understanding would be valuable, some things were just so.

We finished our beers and Elliot walked me out, both of us thinking about the different paths our lives could have taken. We bid each other goodnight, and I headed back to my apartment, alone once again.

For the first time, since meeting him, I resented Elliot for not being alone; for having something that I knew that I would never have, but for having something that I desperately wanted. I showered and changed, lying in bed before dozing off slightly. Although it was not my first case, it was the first nightmare that I had about the case. The description that Marta Steven's had given me about her ordeal had raised the repressed memories that I had tried so hard to bury. As I woke up, on the edge of a scream, I heard a knock on the door.

Quickly, I brushed my hair from my face, which I realised was saturated with sweat, and opened the door. On the other side, was my neighbour; whom I had inadvertently woken when I was struggling my dream-foe. I assured her, that there was nothing to worry about, and I headed back to bed. Unfortunately, I couldn't get back to sleep, when I finally did, I dreamt of my partner.

When I woke the following morning, I knew that this would be one thing that I would keep to myself, that I would never tell anyone, let alone my partner. I was sure that after a while this would dissipate, but until then, I would not tell anyone of this. The only thing I didn't know, was that across the other side of the city, my partner was dreaming the same. While his wife lay next to him, worrying about the state of their marriage, which she thought was suddenly been put in jeopardy by me.

_(I should have the next update in a few days. It's a rewrite of another story that I deleted. Please review, I would appreciate the critisizm and comments.)_


	3. A Single Life

**A Single Life**

As I leant against the cool surface of the two-way mirror in the viewing room; I felt tears gently fall down my cheeks. The trauma these women had endured when they were young reminded me so much of my own bad experiences. I had put this woman through another bout of emotional hell because I thought that I could bring her some justice. I might have convinced her to stay, I might have convinced her to testify, I might have put the man who molested her in jail, I might have saved another girl from that trauma but it all seemed to fade away as I turned around and saw the grown woman sobbing from the pain of broken trust and the continual abuse that had taken place early in her life.

This case had been particularly hard for both Don and me. Don told me about his wife, the poor woman who had been dismembered over some American swamp, and his strongest desire to crawl and hide into a bottle. To find Oblivion. My desire was similar, after my rape and molestation I had slept with almost every person of the opposite gender just so I could forget about their hands on me, the feel of them on and in me. Though for a few months it had worked, I began to realise the extreme risk that I took. After testing myself for anything I may have contracted I had abstained from sex for so long, that when I had done it again, it was like the first time. My social life, well sex life, was practically non-existent for me, and that was just fine. My life revolved around my work and the company of those continually surrounding me.

The evening we discussed our desires and want for oblivion, Don told me that if I wanted to find the perp, I needed to get inside the victims head. Doing that was easy enough, it was in me, I just had to dig the emotions that I had buried so deep within the armour surrounding my heart. This armour thought it protected me from heartbreak, also made my life very lonely. No man had yet to uncover the plains and crevices of my heart. No man had yet to bury himself within the walls of my heart, and more importantly no man would ever dig a hole in my heart that would be unable to be repaired. Little did I know, that someone would dig their way into my heart and burn the armour surrounding it, and I wouldn't discover it until it was too late. My lonely and single life was not unlike that of our victims' and while she was dead, I often thought that I was. With no emotion, no family, no partner, no kids and certainly no love. My life seemed dead with no bound to how far the darkness that engulfed me would go.

My tears, hot and salty, fell upon my lips and I walked away from the interrogation window. I didn't know why, but my feet dragged me to Don's office, somehow knowing that he would provide me the comfort that I so desperately needed for the first time. This case had challenged my identity, my past and most importantly my future and I needed to know why. Don, I knew from his experience, would be able to help me.

"Why did you come here?" he asked me, his voice full of compassion. I reached the door and stood suddenly uncertain upon the threshold.

"I needed clarity," I said, knowing that if I needed clarity I should have gone to my partner. However, I also knew that if he understood, he could not comfort me that way that I so desperately needed.

"Why not go to Elliot?" he asked, already knowing the depth of our bond.

"He couldn't offer me comfort," I supplied uneasily after a few seconds of silence.

"Come here," he whispered and I hurried around the desk. He engulfed me tightly in a hug, and I knew why this man had been that stable father figure of the unit. He was the one that you went to with problems and the one the you cried to and the one that made you feel at home.

I slowly released myself from his embrace, somehow wanting to have that same comfort again. It was the first time in my life that I felt that someone had really cared for me. It was as though I mattered, I was a person who had some significance.

"Why? He asked softly.

"I," I paused, trying to stop the flow of tears from my eyes, "She reminds me so much of me. I put that woman through hell just so that I could feel better," I sobbed quietly, "I'm so selfish."

Don grabbed my wrist tightly, and whispered fiercely, "You are not selfish, Olivia Benson. You helped that woman get justice. You saved that little girl down by the beach so much pain, and you must know what you did was right."

I nodded slowly, wanting to believe but still unable to. Don pulled me to him for one more embrace, and held me strongly once again offering a comfort and further comfort that ever before. As we parted, I subtly wiped some tears from my eyes and left. As I left the door, I turned to see Don, staring at the photo of his long lost wife, looking by far the most depressed I had ever seen. Although, I knew that strong people tended to hate to break in front of others, but I felt a certain pull that forced me back into Don's office, embracing him tightly giving him the comfort he had just given me.

"You wanna talk about it?" I asked, whispering softly in his ear.

"It's just so hard," he said brokenly, "I used to be able to talk to Marge about all this. I used to have comfort, I don't have anyone now. I -"

I interrupted him quickly, "You've got me. And everyone in this unit supports each other, but I am most certainly am here for you."

"Thank you, Olivia."

I placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and left him once again, walking into the darkness of the night which quickly engulfed me, reminding me once more of the emptiness in my life. But I had something I never experienced before, I had a father.

_(I should have the next chapter up by the end of the weekend. I hope that you will review.)_


	4. Or Just Looks Like One

**... Or Just Look Like One**

"She didn't make it," Munch said before walking out the door and heading home. The victim had been a model, and has been killed by a colleague. Her best friend – an innocent casualty.

The case really got to me. I'm not sure why. I never had very many friends, especially not when I was growing up, and I was never an innocent casualty or victim. Whatever I had been through in the past was my punishment for my existence, and I had to accept it, and know that there would be more in the future.

As we each left that day, no-one's attention was really on the case. Elliot was worried about Maureen's eating habits, Don had to leave for a doctor's appointment, and the rest of the gang were having a night at Meloni's.

I headed home to my cold and lonesome apartment, my dwelling. The place where all bad memories are held and continually in the forefront of my mind. As I arrived back at my apartment and saw the only photograph that hung on my wall, I realised why this case had affected me so much. The victim, Jazmin, reminded me of myself. She had a father but almost no mother.

As I gazed at the old photo, I reflected upon my memories. When I was fourteen, a model scout had come to the school and looked for those who had 'potential'. I was selected as one of the young woman who were able to go to a workshop to see if we 'were made of the right stuff'. As always though, my mother had put a damper on my plans for escape. She hadn't signed the permission form, she'd been too drunk. In the end it hadn't mattered, I never would have made it.

I thought briefly about how my life would have been different, but dismissed the thought almost instantly. If it had worked out, I would never have become a cop, never have worked in SVU, and I would never have met these amazing people.

Don, he was like the father of the unit. The one everyone went to in times of trouble, the one that everyone trusted and respected. He looked at us like children, the ones that he was never fortunate enough to have. He was there in a heartbeat, if he sensed one of us was in trouble. Little did I know he would have the cover our asses more times that ever before.

Munch, he was the sarcastic theorist of the unit. The one who acted crazy on the outside, but inside he was hurting, just like the rest of us. Brian, he was a little naïve. He'd been in the unit longer than I had, but he was more repulsed by everything than I was. After only being there for four weeks, I had him pegged not to last that much longer. Jeffries, gosh, she was a character. Tough as nails with a soft streak that she desperately tried to hide. She wouldn't last long either. I had them gauged to go within a year.

Last on my analysis, was Elliot. We'd only been partners for a small amount of time, yet we had a form of bond that wasn't completely based on trust or friendship. I don't know what it was based on, but something stronger that trust or friendship, and I had the distinct feeling that this strong bond would cause us some pain and trouble in future. But for the moment, it didn't bother me; it was content with our relationship and building friendship we had. Although we didn't trust each other fully, we told each other things that no-one else knew. Things that even his wife and my mother didn't know and couldn't understand. And in a way, I think that already I'm closer to him than his wife.

As I considered and analysed our unit further, I came to a clear understanding. This was my unit, my family. It was a new experience for me, but one that I could get used to. Don was the father, Munch; the crazy uncle or older brother, Brian, Briscoe and Jeffries; more outsiders and friends. They weren't as important to our little circle as the others were. That left Elliot and I. It was almost as if we were a couple, but he had a wife, so I settled for brother and sister. Great, I'd only been in the unit for a month, and already I was thinking of being married to my partner.

I had iron chains bound around my heart, but it seemed that this man would melt them away and burrow himself deeply within it. I didn't know that this would cost someone's life, I didn't know that his wife already saw it, I didn't know that Don was already counting the days until he devided we couldn't be partners anymore, and I definitely didn't know that one day Elliot might feel that same.

I didn't fully trust him, but I knew that I was already falling in love with him. I hadn't fallen in love before, but I knew that this fall would be hard. When it happened it would be sudden, fast and very unshakable.

I needed to erase this feeling, but I soon realized it wasn't budging. The only things left to do was mask it and try to ignore the betrayal and hurt that was bound to come with this.

Betrayal and hurt were two emotions that I was far too familiar with. It didn't bother me so much that it would hurt me, but if it cause Elliot or Don troubles, I would leave, shattered heart and all. But the loyalty in this unit would always hold me back from truly moving on.

I fell asleep pondering my thoughts and when I woke in the morning, I rechecked the chains upon my heart, hoping that my mask of emotion was strong enough to stand and withhold the emotional onslaught that would come in the next few hours, let alone months and years.

_(Sorry I took so long to post. I'm having a bit of a block with all my old stories (Inspirations for new ones keep coming), I can't seem to find a way to continue them in the same stream. I hope this fits the bill, and please review. Thanks, and I hope this is okay._)


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